


Istanbul Was Constantinople

by M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: "The Boy" - Freeform, And half fluff, Attempt at Humor, But that is not this fic, Diego might have the dumbest superhero name, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Featuring "shut up about the moon Luther" before the moon or "Luther", Five should have chosen one for himself and he wouldn't have gotten stuck like this, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Gets you dumb names, Humor, I figure Grace probably helped them with their regular people names, I figure Reginald did not name them, I'm trying to rationalize Diego's though, Klaus is me taking everything way further than anyone intended lol, Luther can stay dumb, Naming themselves, Not able to add separate ANs at this time, PFFT, Sibling Love, Siblings, Siblings and all that entails, Some Dark Humor, They named themselves, This fic is a bunch of children giving themselves superhero names, Tied with Luther, To be fair Diego has a pretty wild powerset, aka no privacy being mean and also loving each other, and kids - Freeform, anyway, this is half crack, with references to canon child abuse just sprinkled in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29563812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng/pseuds/M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng
Summary: Umbrella Academy used to be just numbers, now they have names, not just numbers. Why did Diego in particular get the works? That's nobody's business but Diego's (and Klaus's).A look at the process of choosing names when you've been numbers your whole life. Superhero names.
Relationships: Hargreeves siblings as siblings, In all combinations
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Istanbul Was Constantinople

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Umbrella Academy_ , or any associated characters, settings, or events; all rights belong to their respective creators.**

**Trigger Warning for allusions to child abuse, consistent with canon. Not discussed in detail.**

* * *

Number Six flopped backwards onto Number Four's bed with a deep groan, long and loud and full-bodied and obviously intended to be dramatic; Number Four flinched at the look the old lady who used to own that part of the house sent his brother ("Improper, insolent, _misbehaving_ children," she always liked to _tsk_ , shaking her giant spoon threateningly, "in _my_ day . . ."), but gave Six a small smile anyway. He knew the dramatics were for him, not quiet Number Six, to take his mind off of ( _dark and tight and screaming and blood and please, let me out and they can't touch me but they won't stop coming . . ._ ) things, something he would normally do himself and Six would just smile and shake his head a little at, but he was just too tired and strung out and his throat too raw to do all the talking he normally would (wouldn't everybody else be so happy about that). Number Six always knew when he needed a distraction but wasn't up to it, just like Six understood why he was the way he was. Number Six was number one, he laughed to himself.

"Training," Six grated out.

Four nodded and hummed, scrunching up his face and rubbing at his throat right away.

Six gave him that look that he always got when he was about to do something crazy and funny, but that he thought was a bad idea; Four was already starting to smile. "Be glad," Six said, voice a little slow, "that you don't have to train with a power you don't want."

Four snorted, wincing and reaching for his throat again, and Six giggled in relief. Four kicked him in the ribs, but it only made both of them laugh harder.

"Seriously," Six started, only to stop for another fit of laughter. "Seriously, I could kill someone."

"Don't worry," Four wheezed between giggles. "They won't go far." And they dissolved into laughter.

"I'm a vicious killer!" Six giggled, waving his arms and legs around to represent the tentacles and pulling a face.

"Oh, the horror," Four said, trying to keep a straight face.

Six laughed even harder.

* * *

"That was unacceptable, Two," Number One barked, sounding just like Dad but with a more personal emphasis on Number Two's number.

"It w-w-wasn't _my_ f-fault," Two pushed back, stepping close to Number One and stretching his height as far as he could to get in his face, eyes burning. "The r-r-rumor did it."

"You're gonna blame Number Three for her own injury?" Number One asked incredulously.

"As he should," Dad cut in coldly. Number One looked at him in shocked disbelief. "Number Three was imprecise in her use of her power. But it was not her failing alone." He turned a sharp eye on all of the assembled children. "You are a team. The failing of one—the _injury_ of one—is the failing of each and every one of you. Number Three should have been more precise. Number Two should have corrected himself instead of allowing her mistake to cause his own. The rest of you should have been quicker to react and should have been able to correct the situation, Number Five and Number Six especially, as your powers would have allowed you to pull her out of the way." He glanced dismissively at Number Seven. "Except of course for Number Seven, who was useless, as always." He turned on his heel, preparing to leave. "You will all run laps until a half hour before dinner and reaction training will be doubled until further notice. Be gone!" Six children started to shuffle away, dejected. "Run, not walk," Dad's voice called after them.

* * *

"Number Three," Four called as he came in, in the tone of voice of a man at the end of his rope, "please tell me you're doing something interesting!"

"What?" she asked dumbly, pulling her attention away from her book.

"Studying?" he whined, catching sight of it. He heaved a dramatic sigh and flopped onto her bed on his belly. "At least tell me you're _studying_ something interesting."

" _Precision in Language_ ," she informed him, " _A Look at Connotation, Denotation, and Popular Culture_. Or, I can switch to Spanish, the second most commonly spoken language in the country," she finished in a copy of Pogo's stuffy style.

"Oh, Spanish!" Number Four said, clapping his hands mockingly. "Tell me, how do I say 'My sister is boring'?"

"I have no idea." He groaned again. She rolled her eyes. "Why are you here, anyway? Don't you have your own studying to do?"

He groaned even longer, rolling onto his back and dropping a wrist across his eyes. "Dad's got me studying the history of séances right now. Even he says it's probably complete nonsense, but he thinks I might learn something anyway or something. Whatever."

Three sighed. "Four. Isn't there anything you find at least a little bit interesting? I mean, the history of séances has to at least be full of interesting people."

He shifted his hand, eyed her with one now-exposed eye, and pouted.

"Go," she laughed. "I have work to do and neither of us are ever going to get it done if we don't get to it." He only pouted harder, so she pushed at him insistently with her foot. "Go," she enunciated. "Focus on the good parts and get it over with."

He made a pitiful whining sound. "Three . . ."

"Go. Don't make me rumor you."

With a pout and exaggerated shuffling movements and slumped posture, he made his way to the door.

"Oh, come on," she said to his back. "There has to be something good. Stop whining."

He paused and turned, one hand on the door frame and a considering frown on his face. "Well," he dragged out. "I guess—I do like the _word_ 'séance.'" She raised an eyebrow. He grinned and with a ridiculous hand gesture announced, "It has a certain . . . flounce." He turned with a sweep of the arm and left.

"That's fitting," she called into the hall after him. "So does the human séance."

He laughed.

* * *

"Are we gonna be superheroes?"

Five heads turned towards Number Six, who turned a bit pink.

"I mean, Dad always says we're supposed to save the world, so I just thought . . ." He curled up a little where he sat, hugging himself like he always did when he felt uncomfortable.

It was quiet for a minute as everyone thought about that and looked around to see if anybody else had an answer.

"When we're good enough," Number One finally said with a shrug, "I guess we are."

"Cool," Six said. "Um, but, we'll need names right? Do—do we get to pick them, or—?"

"Names?" Three asked, curious.

"Well, all—all superheroes have to have names—" Six tried to defend.

"Says who?" Five cut in, rolling his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with our names."

Number Three and Number Four looked at him like he was clearly an idiot, Number Six blushed more and hugged himself harder, and Number One looked torn trying to figure out what Dad would want him to say. Number Two sat back, flipping his knife, and watched in amusement.

"I've been reading _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ —"

"A work of fiction," Five dismissed, turning back to his own book.

"Yes," Six agreed, "but—"

"But it would be really cool to have code names," Number Four cut in, too loud, jumping to his feet with a flourish. Number Six sent him a look of relief when all the others turned to him instead. "Think about it: it'd be like in the army, when they give the special people and projects special names," he appealed to Two. He turned to One next. " _And_ Dad always says we have to stay in so no one will know about our powers, so he'd probably want us to have a secret identity and sh—"

"Number Four," Number One barked.

"—and there's a reason he calls us 'The Umbrella Academy' instead of 'the Hargreeves family,' so it sounds exactly like something he would do, right?"

Number One kept glaring at him with Dad's patented Disappointed and Disapproving Face, but he didn't disagree.

"Number Three," Four said, turning his attention to her, "everyone loves a good mystery. Not knowing who someone really is always adds to the allure and draws more attention. And it'd be like a stage name." She seemed interested, but didn't say anything. He turned away with a swoop of pointy elbows. "Plus," he said, clapping his hands together, "it'll be fun."

There was another long moment of everyone looking around at each other, no one wanting to put themselves out there first (except Number Four; Number Four _lived_ for that sort of thing).

The dinner bell rang.

"Well," Five said, clapping his book closed, "that's an end to that nonsense."

Number Five could be oblivious, sure, but Two thought he was at least smarter than that. This was Number Four; nonsense was definitely _not_ at an end.

* * *

"So. What _would_ your superhero name be?"

Two blinked. "W-w—"

Four ignored his surprised stutter and carried on. "Mine would probably be—" He made a sweeping gesture over his head liked he was reading the name from a sign, probably a glittery, lit-up one knowing Four. "—The Séance. I thought maybe The Human Séance, but Six says that's too much of a mouthful and it would only get shortened anyway, so I might as well start off with the shorter version, it's practical. And Three suggested maybe Ouija or something like that, but I said it sounds too much like 'wedgie' and you and One would take that as an invitation for all sorts of things. What do you think?" he finally finished, tilting his head to one side and staring at him with wide eyes.

"I—" He lost words completely for way too many seconds, jaw moving but his brain and his breath stuck.

 _Relax_ , Mom's voice said in his head, _picture the word_.

 _Escape_ was the only word that came to him. Four was a hurricane of words, all the time, too much and too fast and Two wasn't even sure at this point what question he was expected to answer. He floundered helplessly for another second, something like panic and anger bunching up behind his stuck words and filling his chest to bursting.

 _Wedgie_ , his brain finally added.

He blinked.

Wedgie it was.

* * *

"Jump," someone said behind him and he'd already done it before he registered that it was just Four.

"Excuse me?" Five scowled from across the room.

"Your name," Four said, simply (in every definition of the word), wide grin stretched across his face and actually sparkling in his eyes.

Five suddenly understood, looking at the grinning idiot, that his reaction might be considered fear or even an obedience to Four. Unacceptable. He made a noise that he hoped conveyed his deep loathing for the boy and his interruption and the topic of conversation and jumped away to find some peace and quiet and settle his . . . hackles.

* * *

"Stabby."

"What?"

"Knife-Thrower; could be shortened to K.T."

"Is th-this about the n-n-name?"

Four studied him, squinting. "You don't like those options." Two gave him a _look_. "Fair enough. Not my best work, I know, but I've only been on the job for a day—not even; half a day, maybe less if you count time asleep—point is, give me time." His face lit up. "Ooh, The Point? Yes? No? Okay. I'll keep trying."

"P-please don't."

Four winked and wiggled his fingers and wandered off.

* * *

Number Two was seconds away from complete oblivion, exhausted and finally warm and comfortable in bed, when there was a _scuff_ from outside his door and the distinct sound of the door easing open. He picked up the nearest solid object and threw it without looking, satisfied at the noise of it hitting its target.

"The Blade," Number Four said from the doorway.

Two shot up in a panic, eyes flying open to find Four completely fine and holding his alarm clock.

Just his alarm clock. Not a knife.

He huffed out a hard breath. "What is wrong with you?"

"Not big enough?" Four asked, studying him like he had been all day.

"Get out."

* * *

Two had started to doze off in the suspension tank, bored, when there was a tapping on the glass.

"Shark," Four said unnecessarily loud and slow, first miming a fin above his head, then swimming (first like a human, then something that vaguely resembled a snake), and finally pulling his cheeks back to reveal his teeth. "Shark!" he said again. Then he did a little dance while making sounds that might have been the theme to Jaws.

Two determinedly closed his eyes.

"Hey!" Four said, pounding on the glass.

A moment of silence.

"You're right, wrong predator. I'm thinking mythical. _Mysterious_." There were two knocks on the glass. "Don't worry. I'll think of something."

* * *

"Don't think I've forgotten you," Four _cooed_. One looked up. "What do you think your superhero name should be?"

"You're still on that?" One asked incredulously, squinting at him from under the weights stacked on his back.

"Of course!" Four crowed, clapping his hands together. "Of course, of course, of course! I'm The Séance." He gestured dramatically at his own chest. "The artist formerly known as Number Three has pretty much decided on The Rumor." One screwed his face up, but Four didn't take notice, too distracted by bowing with a dramatic flourish of his hands. "For Number Six, we're thinking The Horror," he continued with a dramatic sweep over his head as if gesturing to a sign, followed by an exaggerated shiver and sound of, well, horror. "Two is proving difficult because he doesn't like any of my suggestions," he pouted. "And Five has taken to disappearing every time I'm in the room." He shook his head sadly. "That boy." He sighed and bowed his head like he was grieving. One shook his own head and decided to ignore him.

"Anyway!" Four said, loud and sharp, clapping his hands together again. "Any suggestions for yourself? Hmm? Strong man? Big guy? _Atlas_?" One actually liked that one, but he refused to give Four the satisfaction.

"If you don't walk away, I'll tell Dad you're interrupting training."

Four mock-gasped. Then, in a tone of voice that made it sound like he'd finally hit on the perfect name, he said, "Daddy's boy!"

But he walked away, so whatever.

* * *

"Scylla or Charybdis?" Four asked, while Dad was distracted over dinner.

Two waited for another free moment, throwing anxious glances around, before he said, "Girls."

Four scrunched his face up, clearly confused. "Problem?" he said a little too loud.

Two shot him a look.

"There will be no talking at the dinner table!" Dad barked, slamming a hand down to emphasize his point.

* * *

"The Kraken" Four announced, ripping open the shower curtain, "was not a girl." He paused and stared at Two like he was waiting for some kind of response, completely unbothered by Two choking on shampoo and water.

Two stared back at him as he caught his breath.

Four nodded. "Finally," he said, sounding relieved about something. "I'll tell the others."

"Wait," Two said, confused. Four continued walking out of the bathroom. "Tell the others what?" he yelled out the still-open bathroom door.

He got no answer until several minutes later when Six—The Horror, apparently—came in to brush his teeth. "Glad to hear you finally settled on a name," he said quietly. Two, who had been drying his hair, lowered his towel to stare at him. "I like it," Six continued. "It has a nice ring to it. And it might confuse people about what your powers are."

Two stared at him and waited for him to explain. He usually didn't have to talk much with Number Six, one of the reasons he was his favorite; Six just got it and explained things without making him ask. He sometimes just had to wait a minute.

Sure enough, after a bit, Six glanced in the mirror and realized Two was just staring at him blankly. He thought things over for a second, then squinted and took his toothbrush out of his mouth. "Four said you decided to call yourself The Kraken."

Two hadn't, but he was tired of fighting it and he _did_ like the name and Six was right about it confusing bad guys. He shrugged. Six grinned like he knew Two was just giving in and completely understood.

"One still hasn't come even close to a name," he added like a consolation prize.

Two shrugged like he didn't care and brushed past Six quickly so he wouldn't see him grinning.

* * *

One didn't get a name at all until Dad started talking about sending him into space for a _solo mission_ and One couldn't stop talking about it. He managed to work it into every conversation.

Oh, you thought training was hard? Try having to train for a _solo mission_ on top of the same stuff as everybody else (like they hadn't all been getting specialized training since they started revealing powers).

Oh, you were curious about what missions the team was going to be sent on or scared of the danger? He already knew what his _solo mission_ was going to be and the fact that they were nervous was probably why they didn't have _solo missions_ of their own and anything they were going to face wouldn't be nearly as scary as being alone in space, on a _solo mission_.

Everyone was some degree of sick and tired of hearing about it, even Three who normally gave in to all of One's stupid stuff and Five who was usually above it, but it was Two—stuttering, perpetually second-best Number Two—who gave him a nickname, who finally managed to shut him up (even if only briefly), who finally managed to throw words with the precision of his knives.

"Shut up, space boy," he snapped.

One's jaw dropped, completely at a loss for words.

"Ohhhh!" Four said, loud and long and victorious and giggling. "Snap! Crunch! Another one sunk by The Kraken!" He collapsed giggling, Six snorted, Three covered her mouth to hide her laughter, less successfully than quiet Seven, who had done the same. One turned bright red. Even Five looked up from his book and raised an amused eyebrow, giving Two a nod of acknowledgement before he tuned them all out again. Two rolled his eyes, but couldn't fight down his pleased grin.

"Dad gave me a _solo mission_!" One whined, as if that meant anything anymore.

"Whatever, Spaceboy," Four said, waving a hand dismissively, still giggling. Six and the girls couldn't contain their own giggles anymore.

One huffed and left the room.

* * *

Five stubbornly refused to let any of the others call him by any other name for months more. Any attempt to do so was met with harsh retribution, usually in the form of evil pranks that couldn't possibly be traced to any one person but which the target knew _exactly_ the reason for. He persisted right up until their first mission.

"That's him!" one of the would-be bank robbers shrieked hysterically, pointing at Five, who raised an eyebrow and smirked. "That's the boy!"

"A- _ha_!" Four practically shrieked himself, snapping his fingers, as the man was dragged away still screaming incoherently. "It has been decided!"

The others ignored him.

At the press conference, a moment later, lined up in order, Four took the opportunity to introduce Five after him: "And this," he said, mischief tickling his voice, "is The Boy." Five glared.

"What?" Four defended in a whisper after the microphones and cameras had moved on to Six. "It's mysterious. Very you."

Retribution was swift, long, and fearsome, but the name had already gotten out there and there was nothing to do about it.

"You could tell them a different name to call you," Seven suggested timidly, once.

But that would mean admitting he actually cared.

* * *

Five didn't know who started it, but someone started talking about "real names, like regular people names" at some point.

They weren't going to get him this time.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! As usual, comments, critiques, and constructive criticism are more than welcome!**

**This is a one-shot for now, because the parts about "regular people names" are giving me fits, but this finally came together out of nowhere two years after I started it, so you never know, lol.**

**Have a super day!**

**M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng**


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